Renenet
by levinacho
Summary: Kisara Ryuzaki leads the normal life of a piss poor intern at a local museum until she finds an artifact with incredible power that transports her back in time. Stuck in the middle of ancient Egypt, she has to find her way home before she's met with a terrible fate. Slight AU. Rating may go up. [Mizushipping]
1. Chapter 1

Note: Hey, all! Thanks for checking this out~ First things first, I basically had a crack dream years ago that this fic is (VERY) loosely based on, so I just kinda ran with it. This is a bit of an AU from the Millennium World arc/MW "history" so forgive me for taking a few liberties with story telling. I'm guesstimating it'll be about 10 chapters, most of which will be longer than this intro. I hope you guys enjoy the ride! Lemme know what you think! :)

* * *

When the blackness faded she was in a room, but not the one she last remembered standing in. She tried to understand what was happening, where she was, and _why_ , but it proved difficult in the stifling heat. The room was filled to the brim with murmuring people and yet Kisara never felt so alone. She could hear them all around her – whispering, breathing, pushing others aside to get a better look. Her body was too weak to move, though even if she was able Kisara would have been too terrified to run. The stone dais was cold against her skin and made her painfully aware of the fact that she was naked.

"Is she alive?" someone behind her whispered.

Footsteps closed in on her, and there was a person at her side. A smooth, warm hand touched her arm. A deep voice asked, "Your Radiance? Are you hurt?"

Everything ached. Yes, she hurt quite a lot, but perhaps they would leave her alone if she pretended to be dead. She was not given that luxury.

There was a second set of footsteps and two strong arms slipped under hers and lifted her off the floor. Her captor held her up as if she was a doll. Her hair hung in front of her face, partially obscuring her view, but she could still see the vast auditorium congested with what must have been a thousand people.

 _This is a dream_ , she told herself. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Why else would she be paraded in front of all of these people as naked as the day she was born? Every inch of her skin was aflame with embarrassment, but the crowd before her did not care. Silence covered the room like a stifling blanket for just a moment. And then the man who spoke to her stepped into view. He raised his hand to the crowd and announced, "It is done!" and the room exploded with excitement. Every single person in the room, no matter how young or old fell to their knees and bowed until their heads touched the floor. They rose in unison and song and dance broke out. The celebration began and their chanting voices rang in her ears.

" _Renenet! Renenet! Renenet!_ "

Her head spun. This wasn't a dream – it was a nightmare. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't wake up.

* * *

It was a perfectly boring Sunday morning. The cramped apartment filled up with the sound of an alarm clock until a pale hand slapped the snooze button. It would protest once again in another ten minutes, but that meant ten more minutes of sleep. And Kisara Ryuzaki desperately needed sleep.

Her tiny coffee table overflowed with stacks of research papers, reference books, and empty Cup-o-Noodles containers. Beside a dusty television, there were more books stuffed a bookshelf on the far side of the room – and were also stacked on top of it and all around it. They were everywhere, impossible to escape. They say you should surround yourself in things you love and Kisara intended to do just that. She would have slept on a bed of books if only she could find one comfortable enough, and she might have settled on being a librarian if she wasn't… Well, if she wasn't _Kisara_.

When the alarm clock shocked her to consciousness once more, Kisara blinked a bleary eye at the time, let out a yelp, and scrambled out of bed. In seconds, she'd gathered up a change of clothes from the floor (she knew they were clean, they were from the _clean_ laundry pile) and bolted into the shower. After cleaning herself in record time, she toweled off her long white hair and pulled on her clothes. She grabbed a slice of bread from the kitchenette to cram into her mouth while brushing the kinks out of her hair. One glance in the mirror told her she looked presentable enough, so she grabbed her faded bag from its home by the door and ran to the bus stop.

The bus was already there and the passengers finished boarding, but the doors stayed open while Kisara sprinted the last block. Puffing and panting, she flashed her bus pass to the kindly middle-aged driver. The driver gave her a nod and remarked, "Cutting it close today, hm?"

She was too exhausted to answer. Eight stops later, she squeezed herself off of the bus, waved at the driver, and looked up at the great marble steps leading up to what she once mistook for heaven. The museum was the largest one around, and it was a place of wonder and adventure to her as a child. Too late she realized that the excitement was only within what the museum protected. The museum itself was a different story.

Being a teacher's pet paid off in university. A notable professor pulled a few strings to land her the internship of her dreams with an acclaimed historian.

She walked into the untidy office and cleared her throat to announce her presence. The older man sitting at his desk had his eyes fixed upon the computer screen and did not look up. She cleared her throat once more and murmured "Excuse me?" to no response.

And so, it was time for the waiting game. Kisara pursed her lips and rocked back on her heels to await his answer. After a minute or so, he graced her with it.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I overslept."

"You didn't bring my coffee."

"I'll go and get it n—"

"Don't bother. Junko had a few call outs today, and she needs an extra set of hands. Go find her in Haskell."

"Yes, sir," she replied, inclined her head, and walked as fast as she could from the room. Mr. Yamaguchi was a brilliant man. He was one of Japan's most renowned historians and his research was groundbreaking. His personality left something to be desired, but Kisara wasn't working under him because she wanted companionship. She wanted the experience, the credentials, the raised eyebrows when her future employer saw Yamaguchi's name on her resume.

Her reassurances that it would pay off in the end grew staler with every coffee run.

In the Haskell Wing, she found Ms. Junko barking out instructions to various others. In many ways, Ms. Junko was no better than Mr. Yamaguchi, but at least she liked Kisara enough to remember her name and give her tasks more engaging than being a barista. Ms. Junko gave Kisara an appreciative nod. "So he finally got around to sending you over? It's about time."

"Good morning, Ms. Junko," Kisara said.

"You've been shown the lab downstairs, correct?"

Kisara hesitated. "I know where it is, but I've never been inside."

Ms. Junko unclipped the key ring from her belt and tossed it to Kisara, who only just managed to catch it with her fumbling fingers.

"Go to room A-3 in the lab. I left the map of the floor plan there, and we need it _now_. I'd go myself, but someone has to keep watch over the flock of turkeys in here." She gave a pallid young man a disdainful glance as he rushed by her before turning to Kisara once again. "Go quickly. I need that map five minutes ago."

"Yes, of course," Kisara jumped. With the keys in hand, she hurried off to the staff elevator that would take her to the basement. Certain artifacts were kept there to better preserve them, and some were restored and researched in the labs. Kisara had never been given clearance to enter it before, and probably for a good reason. Lowly interns were hardly the type to be trusted around delicate artifacts that could be ruined with as little as exposure of the wrong lights. A delighted smile came to her lips. This was the first opportunity to explore, and better yet, it was chock full of things the public had scarcely seen before. Euphoria overcame her as she thought of all the treasures locked away, and entertained the wistful notion that perhaps she might peek in some other rooms while she was there. After all, how often was she going to get to see this part of the museum if Mr. Yamaguchi kept her doing boring secretary work?

With Junko's card key, Kisara was granted access to the sealed metal door that separated her from the labs and storage at the end of the hall. She was quite sure that if she was seen, there would be hell to pay. She swiped the card and moved as fast as she dared. Her eyes scanned the signs until a plaque labeled A-3 came into view. Pausing before it, Kisara swiped the card again, and opened the door.

"Excuse me?" she called into the room, hoping she wouldn't catch anyone by surprise.

It was empty inside. The stark white room was lit only by a handful of fluorescent lights; most of them were off since no one was there. Kisara swallowed hard and tried to fight off the uncomfortable feeling taking hold of her. The door closed behind her as she groped along the wall for a light switch. It felt eerie. Kisara had never been in a part of the museum before that was so devoid of human life. Being alone didn't bother her, but the suffocating silence _did._

Still trying to find a light switch, she was half-blind in the dark of the room. Her hand swatted at the wall for the switch, but her nerves caused her to misaim. She hit a shelf leaning against the wall – and to her horror, something fell from it and crashed to the floor.

Her cry of shock echoed through the room, and she flattened herself against the wall. In doing so, she hit the light switch, and the room was illuminated. With her heart hammering, she was flooded with panic. Dozens of bits of metal had fallen from a tray she'd knocked off of the shelf. They were all shapes and sizes, some the length of her finger and some the size of a saucer.

"Oh no, oh no, nonono—"

She dropped to her knees and fixed the tray. One by one, she collected the metal pieces and arranged them all to fit on the tray, hoping that no one would notice. How long would it take for someone to come and investigate the noise? She quickly replaced the tray on the shelf, but something glinting underneath the lab bench caught her eye. It was another piece of metal that fell, she realized, but when she knelt down to retrieve it, it was not ordinary piece of metal. For a moment, she was shocked that it had been thrown in with the ugly bits of copper and tarnished silver, and she stared at it.

It was dirty and ancient, but it was gold nonetheless. The medallion inscribed with hieroglyphs and an eye of Horus shaped into the center. She reached for it, but as she did, she froze. Some animal instinct had arisen within her. Don't touch it, a voice deep within her warned. She should not have been touching any of the metal at all without protective gloves, as the fluids secreted through human skin were harmful to such ancient things – but that's not what the voice was warning against.

Footsteps came closer and there were voices. People coming to investigate the noise, she was sure. It would look bad enough for her to be in a generally restricted area with Ms. Junko's key card and no good excuse to be unattended. Kisara could hardly expect to keep her internship if she also took blame for tampering with artifacts, too. There was no time for anything else. So she reached under the bench, clasped the medallion in her hand, and scrambled to stand up.

No such thing happened. For a split second, she looked at the medallion. It was just long enough for her to see the light glowing from the center of the eye of Horus, and before she could even register what was happening, the light engulfed her – and faded everything to an ocean of black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dearest Renenet, we're not worthy of your presence."

Eyes overflowed upon seeing her, knees hit the stone floor. A sea of people parted for her and the men who carried her. She sat on a palanquin, too dazed to protest. Hands reached for her, trying to touch some part of her or something she touched; those who managed to clutched their hands to their chests and cried out prayers and thanks.

Many of these people in their linen clothes followed her palanquin and had to be restrained by rows of men carrying spears. They still cried after her long after she disappeared from view, and their voices reverberated in her skull.

 _Renenet. Renenet. Renenet._

A voice called out for the palanquin to halt, and it was lowered to the floor. Kisara looked around for anything that might look familiar. There were pillars that reached into the vaulted ceiling all around her, and limestone sparkled on every surface in the sunlight filtering in through many narrow windows lining the hall she'd been taken to. There was a long, slender carpet flanked by obelisks that led up to another dais. Upon it was a throne. The room was sparsely populated, and those who carried her palanquin walked back out through the doors they came in, closing them tight.

It's a dream, she told herself. There isn't any other reasonable explanation.

She could feel the discomfort in her limbs and the sweat trickling down her neck from the heat. Her eyes stung when she looked into the sunlight, and no matter how much she willed herself to be clothed, she remained naked. If this was a dream, why could she feel pain? Why couldn't she will things into existence?

A man stepped in front of her, and when he spoke she recognized him as the man who asked if she was hurt. He dropped to his knees before her and spread his arms wide as if he was offering thanks to some deity. He was strange looking compared to the men and women, most of whom either shaved their heads or bore bluntly cut black hair. He was a young man, no older than Kisara herself, and wore a golden circlet with the eye of Horus in the center, which held back a wild mane of black and blonde hair. When he fell to his knees, everyone else did as well and bowed until their foreheads touched the ground.

"Beloved Renenet, we are unworthy of this honor. All of Kemet will sing your praises tonight, and all the nights to come. Anything your heart desires, the Seven shall provide."

It struck Kisara that the strange word she kept hearing was a name – and it seemed everyone thought the name was hers. The young man was gazing at her with naught but reverence; it was almost worse than lust and made her even more uncomfortable. She tried to cover herself with her hair and hands as much as possible before trying to explain.

"I – I'm sorry, you have me confused with someone else."

The young man seemed surprised for a moment, but a smile stole over his face and he chuckled. "There is no confusion. Your arrival was foretold. Akhenaden, if you will…"

A hooded man who'd been on her periphery stepped forth. His cloak covered him from head to toe, and he wore what appeared to be an enormous golden key around his neck. His grim, craggy face peered out from his hood and locks of white hair. He held his palm up, murmured a few words, and then blue light burst from his palm. She jumped, but it was nothing compared to her shock when what looked like a perfect hologram appear in the light.

"I had a vision sent to me from Your Radiance." As he spoke the hologram in his palm shifted, showing a human silhouette falling through an eye of Horus. "On the night of the next full moon, Osiris will reach down to answer our prayers and offer the goddess Renenet to bless our land. The goddess will revitalize our earth and grant us a bountiful harvest the likes of which we have never seen, and should we displease her, never see again. The pale goddess will walk among us, human and not human, until she is released from her earthly flesh to return to the gods' realm."

The light faded along with the silhouette, which seemed to grow wings in its final moments, and Kisara couldn't breathe. What did that mean? What was going _on?_ She was a deer in the headlights, unsure of how to proceed or what to do because of how entirely bizarre her situation became. It wasn't until that moment that she began to truly panic, because until then, she didn't accept these events as reality. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands over them to envelop herself in emptiness. If only she could think…

The last thing she remembered was picking up that stupid medallion in the lab, and then darkness. How did this happen? Did someone drug her? Was this someone's idea of a prank?

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice wavering with the tears now building up inside of her. "Who are you people?"

"You are in my throne room, Your Radiance. In my palace. I am Pharaoh Atem, head of the Seven – the council of advisors who help me to govern Kemet."

Kemet. Again with that name. It was the ancient Egyptian name for Egypt itself. And did he just called himself a _pharaoh?_ This was some ridiculous drug-induced hallucination. This was her punishment for being in the lab with a senior's card key and no supervision. This was some stupid intern initiation ritual where everyone was in on the prank and it was humiliating and horrifying for the one subjected to it. There was no other way. This couldn't be happening.

"This isn't funny," she growled. "It wasn't _ever_ funny. Who put you up to this? Mr. Yamaguchi? Ms. Junko?"

The man who called himself the pharaoh seemed confused, and he exchanged a look with the cloaked man beside him. "Your Radiance, have we offended you in some way?"

She stared at them all in turn, looking for a face she recognized. The only other person looking her way was a man who was tall even while kneeling. He clasped a golden scepter in one hand, and his deep blue eyes never blinked as he stared at her.

"Stop it. Just – fine. Whatever. You've all had your fun and killed this joke, okay? And I'm sure you've got enough naked pictures of me to last a lifetime – so just cut this out right now, and I won't even tell the cops."

The pharaoh's brow furrowed. "Joke? I'm not understanding. Could Your Radiance please explain so that we may resolve whatever it is that upsets you?"

And then she decided enough was enough. Not one person cracked a smile to let her know that this was a prank. No one snapped pictures, no one laughed. In fact, they all seemed almost frightened of her. Their acting was flawless, and it unnerved her. She shivered. _Please let someone break_ , she begged. If only someone would betray some hint…

Terror rose up and grasped at her last shreds of sanity. She had to get out. Her frantic eyes searched the room and found there were stairs. Perhaps they led to a way out. And if not, well… anywhere was better than here. She didn't know what was going on, but she couldn't be in this room any longer with these people who made the strange illusion feel so real. She ran without warning, jumping from the palanquin and streaking past the guards who carried her. She heard shouts after her; she was gone, jumping the stone steps two at a time until she reached a level floor. There were more guards and people, all of whom seemed shocked to see her. The wall of people was to one side of her, and to the other… stone. There was only one way past them.

She sprinted towards them, and just like before, the people spread to make way for her. They still reached out to touch her, to call her name, to feel her hair, but she didn't let their hands stop her. She had to keep running. Once she passed the crowd, she saw sunlight pouring in through a doorway and made way for it.

What she saw made her stop dead.

She stood in front of a great plaza. Down the steep steps was a vast plaza filled with thousands of people. _Thousands_. Upon seeing her, there was a momentary hush – and then, uproar of song and prayer. She watched a nation bow to her, chanting the nameRenenet over and over. Balking, she turned from them and ran. _How could they get thousands of people in on a prank…? No, it's a hallucination. They slipped something into my drink or my food or…_

She shoved past countless people as she found herself running through streets full of merchants and beggars and naked children. _Renenet, Renenet, Renenet_ followed her. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. She felt sharp rocks cut into her feet and felt the wind knock out of her when she ran into a swarthy man's back. Stumbling like a drunk, she crashed into a stall and sent a plethora of fruits flying everywhere and startling a few camels tied up nearby. In the confusion, she ran into a dark, narrow alley unseen, trying to escape the name echoing in her ears.

The sand burning her feet, the cuts that sliced between her toes, the blistering heat that sucked air from her lungs and caused rivers of sweat to drip from her pores…

Even if everything else was a hallucination, these sensations were not. And unless they were sticking her in an oven, she couldn't imagine how this heat could be mimicked. The heat was unbearable, and her vision flickered in and out. She panicked. Was she dying? She tried to get to her feet, but her muscles ached in protest and she fell. Stars danced before her eyes and she felt her brain functions reduce to little more than static. The sound of footsteps came closer to her down the alley, and they were the last thing she remembered.

-

When she awoke, it was to something soft and wet stroking her brow. It was still too hot, though the moisture was a welcome relief. Rather than the sand and dirt she remembered, what lay beneath her was soft. And there was most definitely someone else there.

Her eyes fluttered open and settled upon a figure sitting beside her. The pharaoh smiled faintly with a wet cloth in his hands which he was using to cool her forehead.

"I'm relieved that you're awake. I was beginning to fear for the worst."

Once she collected her wits, Kisara sucked in breath and tried to scramble away. The pharaoh held back to allow her space as she retreated to the other side of the bed.

"My most sincere apologies for frightening you, my lady. Might I ask your name?"

The nightmare wasn't over. How was this possible? She knew with incredible finality that this was not a hoax or a hallucination or even a figment of her imagination. This was _real_.

"K-Kisara," she stammered. "Please. Help me. P-please."

The pharaoh used only slow deliberate motions as if he was trying to coax a spooked animal to calm down. "Kisara. It's a pretty name. I believe I told you before, but my name is Atem. I am the ruler of Kemet. If anyone can help you in this kingdom, it's me. I swear on the honor of my ancestors, I will not hurt you, but you have to trust me."

"How can I trust you?" she moaned. "I have no idea who you are, or where I am, or…" A sob escaped her, and she did not shake off the pharaoh's hand when he touched her shoulder.

"Trust is a double edged blade, is it not? We are both at risk."

She looked up at him through a haze of tears. "What am I doing here?"

The pharaoh's brow furrowed. "I suppose the simplest answer is 'magic.' Although Isis has a more detailed theory… Essentially, the ritual we meant to perform is a ceremonial one that we do every year before the great harvest. Lord Akhenaden, my advisor, prophesized that Osiris would deliver the goddess Renenet to us this year to grant us a harvest of unimaginable proportions. Shortly after in private, another advisor by the name of Isis had an augury. It contradicted a few points of Akhenaden's prediction. Her augury stated that a woman from another time would appear, a woman of great knowledge and power, but the woman would not be divine. She warned that the woman held the power to save or destroy our kingdom."

"And you believe that woman is me."

"I would love to tell you no, it was another woman who appeared at the ceremony, but that isn't the case. I know you are not a goddess, although the people of Kemet and many in my court for that matter won't be so easily convinced. Your arrival was quite a display. Those who muttered their doubts yesterday now weep your name with joy." He sat back on his chair with his chin resting on a palm. He stared out the window looking perplexed.

It was impossible that any of this was actually happening… But in light of all the evidence staring her in the face, how could Kisara deny the reality of the events unfolding?

"I still don't really understand what's going on," she admitted.

His brow furrowed in deep thought. "You have arrived at a terrible time, I'm afraid. Our last harvest season was so fruitless that my people have been dying of famine by the hundreds. They turned to me for help, and gods did I try, but good intentions were not enough to sustain them. Kemet is on the verge of collapse. No people means no workers, no workers means no economy. No economy makes us unsavory trade partners, and thus food has been difficult to import in the quantities needed by so many hungry mouths. And on the vicious cycle goes. Akhenaden's prediction gave people hope long since lost. The harvest goddess, to walk among us in our time of need! It seemed too good to be true. And, sure enough, it was." A bitter smile crossed his face. "I cannot bring myself to jerk away the fragile hope fostered by my people, even if you are simply a human. Isis' augury seems to be correct. A girl from another time – not divinity, but with the power to save us. We believe in that if you and I have any hope of coming out of this ordeal alive."

As heartless as it was to say, Kisara had no duty to these people. They were dead long before her time anyway, and she was ripped away from her own world – and for what? To be some fake deity? But there were few options available to her. If she didn't play along, then who could say she would remain safe? Desperation made people do crazy things. If the situation was as dire as Atem made it out to be then Kisara was lucky they no one saw her for what she was. Not that any of that made her feel any better.

"What should I do?"

The pharaoh's smile was calming. "I'll figure something out. For the time being, I'll have you guarded at all times. The people revere you, yet I would be telling an untruth if I claimed all of them are honorable. The safest place for you is here, or at the least, as the ward of someone I trust with all my heart."

As if on cue, the door opened and a man stepped inside of the room. It was the tall, blue-eyed man who stared at her in the throne room. Kisara swallowed hard when he approached. Unlike the pharaoh, this man glowered at her with suspicion and even being in the same room with her seemed to set him on edge. Atem announced, "This is Seth, the High Priest of the temple and one of the Seven. Under his protection, no harm will befall you."

Atem then turned to Seth and explained, "Seth, allow me to introduce Lady Kisara. In public, she will still be Renenet. Isis was right – she is just a human."

"Perhaps," Seth murmured, his distrustful gaze never leaving her. "That hardly gives us cause to let our guard down. All we know of this… _woman_ … is that she's a threat."

Atem drew himself to full height, which albeit wasn't much considering he was somewhat short to begin with, and gave Seth a look that would have cowed a lesser man. "Lady Kisara is a scared young woman, not some monster. Isis may have been right, and Lady Kisara could be powerful, but I do not see any darkness in her."

"I must stress—"

"Seth. Her heart is pure. I have no reason to distrust her, so neither should you."

There were many things Seth wanted to say, but he closed his mouth to keep them from spilling out. His voice betrayed nothing but respect when he bowed to Atem. "It is as you say, Pharaoh."

Satisfied, Atem nodded at the priest and cast one last smile over to Kisara. "I'm afraid I must leave, Lady Kisara, but I will return when I am able. For now, you'll be in Seth's capable hands."

Seth inclined his head as Atem left. The soft drapes over the door stilled and the last of the pharaoh's footsteps faded, and when Seth looked at her, Kisara already wished that Atem never left.

"Don't believe for a moment that my trust is as easily gained as Atem's. I don't know who or what you are, but I _will_ find out."

"I'm just a goddamn college student. I didn't ask to come here and play pretend," she said, her voice fading along with his patience.

His eyes raked over her, searching her for answers that she could not give, trying to find some hint of deception. She realized with painful clarity once again that she was still naked. No one bothered to dress her while she was unconscious, and though literally thousands of people already saw her in the nude, it was quite different with a single man an arms' length away. She quickly gathered the thin cotton sheets and pulled them over her, her skin burning with embarrassment. Perhaps this was a time when nudity was more commonplace, but she couldn't be expected to prance around in all her glory like this.

Seth snapped, "Mana!"

Within seconds, a girl with a wild tumble of brown hair sprang through the doorway.

"Yes, sir?"

"Find garments suitable for Her Radiance. She's a bit shy in her mortal body."

What might have been perceived as a kind gesture took a different meaning when she heard the mocking tone of his voice and saw a hint of a smirk touch his lips. He wasn't helping her, he was insulting her. She was angry, but how could she argue? How could she think of mouthing off to _anyone_ in this bizarre world? She didn't have the luxury of picking friends when they were so hard to come by. 


End file.
